


How Snow Settles

by VisceralGod



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, He can't help it, Just a drabble, Pap is just a big softie, Pining, a lot of pining, a ton of fluff really, but female is highly implied, he really tries not to be, i dunno man i just write, i mean you can assume the reader is male, i was having trouble writing, it's in his soul, no matter the universe, so i was trying to fix it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 18:59:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15802611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisceralGod/pseuds/VisceralGod
Summary: Papyrus reflects on how he feels for you.





	How Snow Settles

**Author's Note:**

> I hated that last chapter of SotM and it's ruined me ever since. Writing is so hard. It hurts. All of it. So I wrote this to try and like, counteract it, I don't know.  
> Also, if you'd like to set the mood, listen to "Snowdin Town Music Box". It's what I was listening to.

 

It started small. Don’t all things? At first, it began as a tingle in his SOUL, a tiny flicker of a flame, weak and inconsequential. Minor. Menial. Maybe, it was… _mental_. Yet, when he looked at you… that flame refused to extinguish. It was beyond comprehension- beyond logic. What he felt for you was ridiculous, a dream, sanctioned off for a distant reality, never to be reached, and even so… He yearned for you. Still. Something that he knew was never to be managed to grip him so tightly, and he was undoubtably weaker for it. But he couldn’t deny himself- he was attracted to you.

No.

This was beyond simple attraction. It was beyond appearances, beyond physicality. There was just a certain soundness in your very SOUL that set him at ease. It was… inexplicable. And yet, here he was. Watching. The snow drifted from the sky to settle silently on the ground, surrounding Snowdin in its own surreal blanket. It was so quiet. He sighed, simply to break the barrier of quiet, comforted slightly at the puff of air that left him- the reminder of reality. What was it about your SOUL that could make him so wistful? He didn’t understand, or enjoy it, really. It was beyond his control- how he’d managed to find this small sanctuary in you- even if it was only in his own head. Even if it was only momentarily.

His gaze settled on you- on your back, specifically- as you stood- stark and open- against the snow, staring at all the trees. He wasn’t sure what you were looking at, and he didn’t care enough to ask. As much as the silence terrified him, the thought of disturbing this illusion of peace terrified him even more. You were… incredible.

Not your clothes, or your eyes, or your voice, or your smile. He wasn’t cliché enough to moon over any of those things.

No. It was something else. It was something he was unable to put concisely into words. Something he was unable to describe completely, or maybe even understand. In a part of himself he was unwilling to listen to, or acknowledge, echoed the word ‘soft’. And he found himself nodding, despite his own reservations. Soft.

A gaze that was constantly sympathetic, an ear that was always willing to listen. Hands that never trembled, and never harmed. Soft.

He recalled the few times he’d ever felt your hands against his bare bones- and the memory warmed him, starting in his sternum, branching out until every inch of him was flushed. You’d only brushed his radius for a moment with those delicate fingertips, and met him with the most tender eyes he’d ever seen. He remembers your lips moving, but never recalled hearing any sound. The moment will be forever silent in his memory, and he can’t bring himself to mind. Sacrificing sound to remember the exact sensation of your touch, or to recall the way your lips twitch just before bursting into the most vibrant smile, or the soft scent of some sort of sweets that wafted from your hair… he’d do it again, and again, if given the choice.

He watched. It barely registered to him- the snow, its temperature. Without skin or flesh, it was one of the sensations he never acknowledged unless he _wanted_ to, yet watching you out there, close enough to see, yet too far to touch, the cold was something that suddenly seemed so real, and tangible. When the good memory began to fade away, he set his gloved hand on his radius, hoping- in vain- to recreate the feeling. Soft. But not like you.

He was never fond of things beyond him. Yet, that softness of yours was… an exception. The warmth that you radiated was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Incomparable and inconceivable. He didn’t deserve it, and yet you gave it. Perhaps, unwittingly… even so, here he basked in the glow that was your presence- _you-_ and somehow, you were none the wiser.

And for now, he was okay with that.

 

_“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?_

_Thou art more lovely and more temperate;_

_Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,_

_And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;_

_Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,_

_And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;_

_And every fair from fair sometime declines,_

_By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;_

_But thy eternal summer shall not fade,_

_Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;_

_Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,_

_When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:_

_So long as men breath or eyes can see_

_So long lives this, and this give life to thee.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Fell!Papyrus totally reads and quotes Shakespeare at his mates and nothing you say will convince me otherwise.


End file.
